


Crazy Eight

by JC_TheAuthor



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Work In Progress, unedited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-12 15:15:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10493712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JC_TheAuthor/pseuds/JC_TheAuthor
Summary: What do you do when you come from the quiet streets of your own comatose mind and wind up in Wayne Manor? You freak out, that's normal, that's what normal is. So, why can't I be normal?Jan Cross was roughly 10 years old when the Caped Crusader found her in the trunk of a stolen vehicle being used in a drug trade. She spent the next 5 years in an inexplicable coma while being called Batman's Jane Doe. Now she wants normal, just plain and simple normal. No car chases, no vigilante visits, no kidnappings, no criminals, and for the love of all things sane, no visits from her long forgotten past.I guess you can't get everything you want.





	1. Manor Wayne Manor

The door slammed shut with a satisfying bang and a crack as the poor old wooden frame protested against the force of the door slipping into it. A girl no more than sixteen years of age, with long brown hair that fell straight down to her chest and eyes so glazed with tears she could barely see, stormed over to the bed and fell to her knees upon it, letting her weight push her down into the twelve plush pillows that were scattered all around. Not even seconds later the door opened again, the hinges screaming for the split second it took for the girl's mother to get inside and close the door behind her.

"Jan, what was that?" Her mother yelled, her hand still on the door handle, glancing around at Jan's messy bedroom critically before staring angrily at the young girl's back.

The room was large, larger than average for a teenage girl raised in a quiet street's duplex. Jan had been lucky enough to be given the master bedroom, a decision that only made sense when her mother often fell asleep in her office, leaving her father to occupy their bed alone. The master bedroom Jan got to call her own had a closet set up that held more than enough clothes to go three weeks without a laundry day, a queen sized bed of her own that was pushed up against the far wall with no frame, just a box spring and mattress. The floor was covered in papers and textbooks from school that had yet to be packed away and sold, as well as dirty clothes that never made it to the hamper and whatever else you'd expect of a teenage girl in love with TV shows involving dragons and murder and coincidences that save lives, along with the odd knick knacks left over from a childhood any girl would envy, if said girl still kept her creepy old dolls and stacked her bookcase with fandom jewelry her dad bought for her at a convention for a bargained price.

That’s the sort of luck and luxury Jan was used to. She grew up in a middle class family with two loving parents who worked hard at their jobs and never complained so they’d always be approachable when Jan came home with tears in her eyes or bruises on her knuckles. Every cent went to paying rent and filling the fridge, and anything extra went to Jan in one form or another, whether that be an allowance or savings for college. She got everything she wanted and everything she didn’t know she needed, all without a hassle or even the slightest show of effort. Jan got top grades and had plenty of friends, she was never spoiled or bullied or even embarrassed. Her life was perfect, the type of perfection that only comes from dreams.  
Jan didn't lift her head once from the mountain of pillows she buried her head in.

"You can't just go on pretending like we don't exist! We're your parents Jan, you need to talk to us. Tell us what's wrong. You've been ignoring me for weeks."

Jan couldn't help the short laugh that escaped from her mouth and got muffled in the soft cotton she hid in. This sort of thing happened often. It fulfilled her, to argue and win or lose and learn. It’s the kind of situation you love to see on TV because it plays with your heart and makes you think. This was just another one of those arguments, and Jan didn’t even know why it started. "Has it really been weeks? What month is it now?"

"April."

"That's funny. I stopped talking to you around Christmas. What were the marks on my exams like?" Jan asked, sitting up, wiping at the tears futilely as they kept quietly streaming down her smooth cheeks.

"Stellar as always. You always do so well in your classes, and it’s no surprise either. Your marks are well deserved, you study tirelessly.” She said with the tone of a mother who couldn’t be more pleased with the sudden turn of events. Jan was speaking to her again. Her mother sat down on the edge of her daughter's bed awkwardly while she contemplated the question “Is that what this is about? Honey you don't need to worry so much about your grades, you know that's not what we care about."

A slight smile formed on her face as she stared down at the mattress, unable to look her mother in the eye. Of course her parents didn’t care about grades as long as their child was happy, isn’t that the absolute wish of any stressed out teen?

"I didn't study a single day, mama. I skipped the exams; I went shopping downtown and bought a prom dress. Then I wore it to a silly themed party, flirted with a cute boy who had no business being seen with me while everyone else in my grade was mulling over math problems in a dingy, overheated gym. They all laughed when Mrs. Cramer spilt her coffee on one of the student's exams and dripped over onto the poor kid’s lap. It's funny; it’s almost as if I was at both places at once. I mean how could I miss out on either event?"

Her mother tried to look into Jan's eyes, looking for the lie in Jan's telling. "W-what are you talking about? What are you trying to say?"

Jan looked up sharply into her mother's eyes, though she wasn't really seeing. Her gaze was penetrating and far off, looking right through her mother in an almost purposeful way. "Mama, how many pillows are on this bed?" she asked, trying to prove something to herself.

"Three. No four. Hun, why does this matter?"

"There are twelve. Twelve pillows ma, twelve. That's eight pillows too many and I know you didn't buy them for me. We don't have the money to spend so lavishly. We live a simple life, because that's what I wanted, a simple life. Just like how I hate winter and wanted to skip over the season entirely, and how I wanted to get 80% in all my classes. I wanted and so I got whatever I wanted. Everyone's selfish, there are a few things I want that we don't need, but we have them anyway, why? A few things that anyone would fantasize about having like the sports car out front for when dad drives me to school, the room with the bigger bed and the extra space for those useless trinkets and that stylish garbage, the fridge that never empties. The home that’s not too big so you're never too far from a warm hug…or the eight extra pillows you don’t want your mom to find out about so you pray that she never sees them, and by some miracle, she never does.” Jan paused and took a breath, the tears in her throat beginning to stop her from speaking. “I wanted it all, and I got it all. But no one can have all of those things and still be normal, mama, no one.”

"Jan stop. What are you talking about? You're rambling, I can't understand." Her mother said, taking the young girl's hands and forcing Jan to look at her, gripping onto her tight, almost crushing her fingers. Desperate to understand, desperate to help, like the good mother Jan had wished her to be, but that isn’t what she wanted anymore.

"It’s not real!" Jan screamed and ripped her hands away, standing up off the bed. "You don't exist!”

The house began to rumble around them, shrieking, causing things to rattle and fall off the shelves in her room, glass jars and used pens, shattering like windows in a riot. The floorboards shook beneath Jan’s feet and fell through in nothingness, putting her off balance and causing her to sit back down; the sound of groaning that surrounded her hushing as soon as her knees bent, yet her mother seemed not to notice a thing. Jan looked around cautiously, watching as the room seemed to grow smaller with fewer things on the floor, and then her eyes met with her mother’s. “I made you up, mama. I made you all up…your entire lives, my entire life, I made it all up. You’re not real.”

“Hun, don’t say that. Of course I’m real. Now…just come to the dinner table. We’ll talk this over with your father.” Her mother pleaded, tugging on Jan’s arm before releasing the cloth between her fingers, seeing the torment in Jan’s face.

“No! Don’t you get it? You aren’t real!” Jan shook her head, the muscles tensing up all along her arms as she tried to contain herself. “ You don’t even know dad, I don’t know dad. Not you, not dad, not Aunt Casey, Jason, the Williams next door. None of you are real! None of my life is real! Not my school, not this neighbourhood, not even this house is real. I just made it all up because it’s what I wanted.” Jan moved further away from her mother when her hands reached out to pull her daughter close. Instead Jan grasped out the sheets of her bed, clenching and unclenching her fists as she tried to stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth, like it was filled with Scrabble tiles spelling out the worst things Jan could imagine. “I created you. I invented you to fill something in me that was empty, but I’m older now. I’m too old for imaginary friends…or family. I’m too old to keep lying to myself. You’re just not enough anymore, mama. You’re not real.”

“Don’t say that!” Her mother practically begged as she forcibly grabbed Jan and pulled her into her chest, hugging her so that Jan could hear every frantic beat of her mother’s heart.

That heartbeat was echoed throughout Jan’s room and the streets outside. The walls chipped away at themselves, crumbling into dust that fell in heaps on the floor. With every quickened beat of her heart the house began to fall apart. The porcelain dolls, still pristine in their dusty boxes like the collectibles they were, fell one after another, each with a sickening crack as they hit the floor and leaving them with fractures, fissures and gaps in their little faces. Books rumbled off their shelves and hit the floor ceaselessly. Dickens and Wilde buried under Rowling and Riordan, and the unfortunate slip into Meyers that just wouldn’t sell at the garage sale now lay splayed on the floor with blank pages. Posters peeled of the walls, tearing themselves, shredding themselves into pieces, followed by sheets of drywall and white paint, bringing new meaning to “winter is coming”. Wooden and metal hangers clanged against each other in the closet, clothes tumbling out of its door each time it swung open and shut to that heart beat which cried against Jan’s crushed ear.

Jan pulled away just enough to look up into her mother’s eyes once again, those brown doe eyes that looked upon Jan with a fear only challenged by Jan herself. Fear and distress and…pride? The air in Jan’s lungs never became a breath.

She choked, the crumbling world around her causing dust to rise up into her nostrils and she could just barely keep her balance atop the bed which was surely going to fall through what little bit of floor there was left. A sudden quake jolted Jan out of her mother’s hold and knocked the two of them against what was left of the wall behind the frameless mattress. Jan’s head hit the wall with a thunk louder than the world being destroyed around her or the beat of her heart which sounded along with her mother’s in thunderous unison. Then everything stopped. Nothing moved, nothing was heard. Jan didn’t open her eyes for a while until she was sure the ground under her was solid. When her eyes settled in her skull again and stopped shifting wildly, Jan desperately grabbed for her mother’s hand in the darkness that remained after the world stopped moving.

“Mommy?” Jan called out over the silence, reaching her hands forward to grasp onto her, to grasp onto anything, to feel something, but she wasn’t there. Nothing was there. She was no longer home.

Slowly the silence faded and Jan could hear voices, many voices, the voices of women giving orders and ushering other voices away. There was the sound of a metal cart rolling off somewhere and hitting a wall softly while so many pairs of feet shuffled across a smooth floor. There was beeping, a loud, irritating, endless beeping. It just wouldn’t shut up, and it was too cold. The AC must have been set to the highest setting. Jan opened her eyes slowly, allowing her pupils to adjust to the influx of intense light, her eyelids so dry they lifted like a century old hatch. Around her were several people, nurses mostly, fiddling with machinery and monitors, taking things off of her and out of her. Jan’s eyes held onto those of the nurse closest to her, who had just taken out and was holding the plastic tube they stick in your nose. The nurse stared back blankly before a smile spread on her face, the type of smile that was meant to be comforting but came off uncomfortable and pitying. Jan scowled slightly, her expression scrunching up and tensing into a look of nausea.

Just outside the door stood a short, thin woman in a long white but not what you’d call a clean lab coat with her hair tied up into a black bun which was steadily coming apart after what was probably a long day for her. She was talking to a much taller man, a strange man whose black suit stood out in the excessive white and blue of the hospital. They spoke in hasty, hushed tones, their conversation going back and forth as if they needed to say a lot but didn’t have the time. The man wasn’t normal, and Jan had to wonder why they would let a strange man like him into a hospital when he didn’t seem injured and it didn’t look like it was Halloween. The walls of her hospital room, though mostly bare, only had a few colourful eggs on the little side table and strings of two-dimensional bunnies and baskets over the window. It was an odd setting for a six foot something guy wearing a full black, leather looking, bat costume that seemed like it’d be incredibly uncomfortable to wear, especially in a hospital setting where his gloomy expression could not be soothing to patients. It definitely wasn’t soothing to Jan.

“It’s good to see those emeralds seeing again.” One of the other nurses said, almost whispering like she wasn’t sure if she wanted Jan to hear it, but none the less it grabbed her attention.

Jan looked around, searching for something but she wasn’t quite sure what, maybe just something to hold onto while the tears pricked her eyes and dripped into her esophagus. Jan opened her mouth to speak softly, her voice strange to her own ears as it sounded dry and foreign and unheard in a very long time.

“It’s cold.”

* * *

 

The drive to Jan’s new home was almost unbearably quiet, though the immaculate Bruce Wayne who sat across from her seemed unnaturally at ease. He sat with his legs crossed, suit pants clearly ironed, in fact their was hardly a wrinkle on his whole body like he'd come straight out of the printer, except for between his eyebrows. A pensive line was formed there as he looked out the window at the passing road, the street signs and the trees crawling by in slow motion. In comparison, Jan could feel the cold sweat that shivered down the back of her neck as her eyes shifted uncomfortably, looking from Mr. Wayne and his quiet contemplation to the world outside that moved too slowly. She’d never had to deal with awkward situations before, she’d always been in control of every aspect of her life. She did not like this feeling in the slightest, and it was no help that her billion dollar benefactor was being nonchalant about this whole thing as a bachelor is when ordering drinks. 

The driver had warned Jan that Wayne would be this way.

The two of them had arrived in the limo, Bruce Wayne and his driver; the vehicle pulled up in front of the hospital for everyone to see, including the press. The balding old man with his eyes seemingly always about to close had come to her room to pick her up, insisting in his London drawl that he would carry her bags, or well, bag. The tiny thing only carried the gifts and clothes given to her by the nurses.  
He had noticed the way Jan stared through the transparent hospital doors at the cameras and suited individuals who shouted questions in every direction while barely being held back by security guards who pleaded for them to make some room.

He asked her what she wanted her first meal to be.  
He didn’t push her to move or go out the doors and face the crowd, he didn’t even look towards the doors. This old man, this servant who was without question eager to get home just stood there in the hall with her, making idle small talk with Jan like she was a granddaughter just getting out of school for the day.  
They didn't speak about her situation, though the subject wasn't entirely avoided either. Jan didn't need to be told that she would be living at Wayne Manor temporarily while the police attempted to find her family, nor did she need to be told that the Commissioner was doing his best under the circumstances, given that Gotham was a rather busy city. She didn’t need to be told that Batman promised she would be safe. Jan had been told all this before, she’d been promised a thousand times that everything would be fine, that she'd be returned to her family in no time, that she was a top priority. She'd been promised a thousand times that her case wouldn't be forgotten about, she'd be taken care of. 

Alfred Pennyworth made no promises. He told her that a room was prepared for her, that dinner would be served at 6:00 sharp, there would be fresh clothes and linens at her dispense, and if she needed anything, all she'd have to do is call for him. Then he waited, he waited as the nurses and staff bid Jan farewell in the hallway, he waited as Jan steeled her nerves, he waited as she swiped the sweat and the nervous tears from her face, and when she was ready she took his hand.  
As they walked down the hall towards the entrance the noise got louder and Jan's breathing became shallow and she slowed her steps, Pennyworth slowing down with her until she stopped entirely. Just around the corner the automatic doors rhythmically opened and closed, the subdued vwooom~ followed by the sound of a rabid crowd trying to question the doctors and get into the long black limo.  
Her eyes remained forward, staring, wide, blind as her breathing came out short and fast. The tongue in her mouth felt like it receded into the back of her throat, choking her. Her limbs turned numb, and the hand she placed over Pennyworth’s wrist felt clammy and cold. The pounding in her ears was louder than the crowd, louder than the hospital. Louder than all the clicks and flashes and words, louder than the beeping and rolling and tapping. She tried to slow it, ignore it, squash it, but the noise persisted, everything becoming louder and louder the more she tried to stop thinking about it. 

"Master Wayne is waiting in the car." 

Jan looked up at him slowly, her senses returning to her as if she were being pulled out of herself and placed into her body. He smiled down at her, a small curve at each corner of his mouth, the very ends tickled by the tips of his mustache. 

"He left a very important meeting just to be here to meet you, however," He bent slightly to speak to her directly, as if it were a secret for her ears only. "Don't be alarmed if he's too exhausted to speak with you for long. The journey out of the city may be quite soundless."

That was all she needed, the promise of something quiet.  
With that said, despite her second wave of fear still tingling on her skin, Jan smiled and straightened her back. She walked out of the hospital quickly, her eyes passing over the journalists, the enthusiastic pedestrians, and the curious bystanders before nearly launching herself into the backseat of the limousine. Alfred remained for only a minute as Bruce Wayne introduced himself with a charming smile and a firm handshake. 

"Hello, Bruce Wayne. You must be Jane." He said as he leaned forward and offered his hand which Jan took hesitantly. 

Awkwardly she continued to shake his hand until she just let her hand drop free and looked to Alfred for help, Bruce following her gaze and seemingly doing the same. 

"I hope this isn't too much for you."

"I have already given Miss. Cross the spiel, sir. The young lady has assured me of her gratitude." Alfred provided after a few long moments of Jan's silence, to which Jan smiled and nodded her thanks before Alfred left to enter the driver's seat.

"I do appreciate what you're doing for me by welcoming me into your home, Mr. Wayne, but seeing as we aren't even there yet I'd like to see the place before I make myself comfortable with everything." She said with a nervous laugh.

That had been all they said to each other before falling into a heavy silence that lasted the entire trip. They sat across from each other, looking through opposite windows.

  
He asked questions about her past somewhere along the way, to which she answered with a dismissive shrug and an apology that she had no answers to give him. He asked about her time at the hospital to break the silence, and the conversation died out just as soon as it started. They spoke about how the news was portraying her story, making her a pity case without even giving her name. He made a passing remark that he'd see to that being changed. The drive was long, and silent, injected with small talk every now and then. It seemed to Jan that without him having intended it, Bruce was interrogating her, but that didn’t bother her much.  
This was normal, this was how normal worked. It was awkward, a little uncomfortable, and filled with long silent pauses for no real reason. The initial blanket of fear subsided and Jan realized that she really liked this; the quiet, the awkward, the normal. Despite the way it sounded in her head, Jan was in love with it, she was in love with normal. What else could compete with the race of colour and noise she’d known all her life.

As this thought passed through her head she was confronted with a set of gates and a long driveway that wound all the way up to a prison-like manor; grandiose, stony, and passively intimidating. Was this normal too? 


	2. First Breath

Normal didn’t last here. All too quickly Jan realized that being an heiress meant more than money. The life of an heiress was complicated, easy yet at the same time too much to handle. Every moment felt like she was being sheltered against an oncoming storm she knew nothing about and no one wanted to acknowledge. And besides that, every paper wanted to remind her that she wasn’t normal, that she was going to become cold.

It’s cold. The wind is blowing through the open window to the left, whistling and screaming as it races passed the mesh screen that keeps the bugs out and rattles the worn frame. The curtains billow far into the room; barely lowering before another gust of furious air picks them up again and whips them high above the spotless hardwood floor and white carpet, forcing the mellowed grey light of morning to cast itself upon the heavy sheets Jan sleeps under. Sleeps, in the sense that she refuses to be awake no matter how much the morning insists with its growing intensity of light. She could just get up and close it, willing consciousness back into her body and force herself awake just to slip the glass securely into its frame, letting the curtains fall back over the pane. The sheer and feather light curtain would be buried beneath the much heavier drape, consuming her in darkness. She could ring a bell, call a name, and the good-natured butler in suit and tie would come and close it for her while brilliantly delivering a much appreciated sarcastic remark. Adjusting herself to her new existence as a Gotham heiress could be easier if she used that bell. Or she could just leave it open, maybe open up the screen, and let more of that outside in. She could breathe in more of that Gotham air that wafted from the city and traveled across gravel, concrete and grass to infiltrate the Manor’s living room, or was it a study? Jan couldn’t remember where she’d planted herself, she had never experienced this much space in one home. In any case, Jan found herself resting on a large couch with a pillow squashed beneath her weighted head and several blankets efficiently cooking her while she was encompassed by so much air.

Jan hadn’t truly breathed city air in five years, according to her nurses. She was hooked up to a machine that breathed for her, pumping air into her lungs in a steady controlled fashion, clean air which no one else would breathe the same way. It was air with no personality, no heart, no life; air untouched by culture or people. Jan would not miss that machine.

The air in Wayne Manor feels like it comes out of a machine. It needs to be invaded by that outside, by that city which is almost close enough to grasp in her palms.  
Jan has yet to speak more than three sentences to her warden; it would seem that a man worth 9.2 billion dollars has little time between models and paycheques for a front page girl. It likely made no difference to the infamous Bruce Wayne that his Gotham-aid vigilante partner, Batman, chose to drop the teenaged girl in his lap as soon as she woke up. She wasn’t the first appropriated Wayne child, she wouldn’t be the last, and each would be another feel-good story to boost investment in Wayne Enterprises.

She groaned audibly and dragged herself to the window, every board moving beneath her feet like a wave as she tried to stay balanced, the blanket which clung to her slowly falling around her ankles. Swaying side to side almost rhythmically until her hands met the sill and her forehead met the screen and the curtains floated behind her, inadequately shielding her and the heap of bed covers at her feet. It was too hard to open her eyes. This wasn’t her bedroom; this wasn’t her home. This was a manor, someone else’s manor where they held banquets and balls and boisterous birthdays for billionaires; Jan had no place here. She had no place anywhere. Her home was a five year long fantasy world that no one else would ever know existed.

She could never tell anyone about her home or her parents, she couldn’t tell them how she tore it all away and killed the ones who loved her. She killed them, devastated their world and destroyed everything because she thought she was too old, too mature. She thought she needed the real world, a real home, where every day was challenging and she didn’t always get her way, but Jan isn’t ready for the real world. She’s terrified to face it with her own eyes. She may not miss the machines that kept her living, but she sure missed the security of her own delusions.

Just down the drive to the gate journalists and news writers foolish enough to go there with their cameras and notepads are calling her name. They scream and wave at the cctv, hoping to get someone’s attention, hoping to see Jan’s little face and get a scoop on the newly dubbed Jane Wayne, the formerly comatose Jane Doe now the daughter of Gotham’s most famous. They want to know her life story, where she came from, who she was, why no one ever came for her at the hospital. Oh the stories she could tell, all the lies. She could tell them anything, it wouldn’t matter, not to anybody except maybe Bruce Wayne.

A short sigh broke Jan’s concentration away from the swirling black behind her eyelids and she backed away from the window, turning slightly to face the butler who walked with ease into the room.

“Do tell me when you intend to use the room I prepared for you, Miss Jan. I’ll get the sheets freshly washed.” Alfred said as he bent to pick up the blankets which crowded at the base of the window.

Jan bent her head, a small frown taking over as she watched him clean up after her. “I’m sorry, Alfred, it was just too quiet in there. It felt like I was still in the...well, you know.” Her voice trickled away into a whisper and she couldn’t bring herself to look Alfred in the eyes as he stared at her sympathetically.

“You need only ask and I could have a selection of music ready for you to listen to before bed.”

“No, that’s alright. I’m grown up Alfred, I can do that sort of thing myself. I don’t need to be catered to.”

Alfred’s head bent forward slightly as he took a step towards her, a pause in his speech just slightly noticeable and Jan caught it as his moment to pick his words.

“Do forgive me saying so, but you spent years on the least comfortable of beds in dark slumber. You can afford to be a child now.” He said, offering her a smile which Jan meekly returned, eyes barely raised to meet Alfred’s.

“I will try.”

And with that Pennyworth nodded his head and took the semi-folded blanket with him out of the room, Jan watching the old man disappear behind the door and listening to his footsteps fade down the hall before she took a breath and slowly rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

It’s still week one for Jan. Jan of no name and no heritage, but many titles. She spent as many hours sleeping as she did depriving herself of sleep, eating only as much as Alfred insisted while she tried to become accustomed to the tastes of basic food staples. Today she needed to get dressed, to leave the manor as per the request of her warden, to spend a day in the city to buy what she needed while he took care of a business matter.

The elusive young Wayne son would be joining her needlessly in order for the two of them to get out of the house and so that Jan wouldn’t get lost; an excuse to get the two of them to speak, connect, and integrate Jan more easily. No one expected this to work. Jan hated the thought of driving out past those insatiable reporters or to go out into the city and be led around by a stranger. Damian also made it clear in his open complaints that he had no interest in being a guide and much preferred to focus on his own work in his free time, casting disgruntled glances in her direction for the entirety of the discussion. Despite the clear disdain that the young boy had for her, Jan couldn’t help but silently admit that she appreciated his unexpected use of eloquence to at least try and cover it up. Nonetheless protest was no use, the elder Wayne was stubborn in his resolve and if only to make matters worse, they would be going before noon and meeting him for lunch in some public venue yet to be announced.  
All the more reason for Jan to shop at the Wayne's expense and buy a dress suitable for any gathering, was how Alfred put it.

"Honestly, I don't see what you have to complain about." Damian piped up from the seat next to her, his arms crossed tight over his chest as he looked out the window, refused to look at Jan as he spoke. "You've been given unlimited funding to buy every practical article of clothing anyone could need and then some, all at my father's generous expense, so that you don't have to walk around the city, or the house for that matter, in the tacky clothes you received as donations."

Jan remained silent, looking over the tense 10 year old seated next to her, lecturing her like she was ungrateful and maybe she was in his eyes, but these were the first words he had actually said directly to her. She took a moment to think of what to say.

"That's really not what I take issue with." Jan said, trying to match him for formality despite knowing she'd slip out of it long before he loosened up. "Everything your father's done over the past few days has meant a lot, but I'm not a princess. I'm not accustomed to reporters wanting to know everything about me, or living in a massive house that should be lived in by dozens and not just us few, and I'm certainly not used to being handed a river of green in a black card for pointless dresses."

"Then we are in a agreement on something."

"What?"

Damian looked over at her with eyes sharp and eerily calm, ready to cut right into her character if not for the look he caught from Alfred in the rear view mirror. The young Wayne leaned back in his seat, spine pressed more firmly to the leather upholstery. "Dresses are pointless." He muttered quietly, looking back out the window.

Jan smiled faintly at the comment and she sat up straighter for the first time since they left the Manor. The heavy weight of panic lifted slightly since it was placed there by the silence and the chasing reporters.

Alfred seemed very pleased with the results as well.

"We'll be picking up a few thing for you as well, Master Damian." The sly old butler said when the quiet pause seemed to last to long.

"What?!"

* * *

 

Hours later the three of them walked into the last shop carrying a couple of bags that they had yet to put in the car, and from the look on Damian's face, the young little raven-haired boy was far less than pleased to be carrying these bags that carried Jan's new wardrobe while he was being dragged around downtown Gotham for what he considered an unnecessary waste of time. Needless to say, whatever bonding experience this was meant to be had failed, and with each step it seemed less and less that Mr. Wayne had planned the excursion.

The bags hugging Jan's sides were made of cloth, brought by Alfred and defended by Damian who told more than explained to every skeptical cashier that every plastic bag used by their stores would eventually make their way to the sea or a landfill, poisoning our earth and killing innocent animals who deserved to live more than most humans. And while Jan wouldn't argue with his viewpoints, she did make a mental note not to go out with Damian again unless she wanted to cause a scene.

If not for Alfred, however, all those bags would have been on the floor and left there to stay as soon as Jan saw what was inside this new shop. Nothing she had bought could compare to the beauty that proudly donned the walls and mannequins, and as that realization sunk in the bags began to slip from her grasp and were picked up by Alfred without a hesitation.

One section near the front of the narrow shop was entirely dedicated to colourful dresses of all styles, mostly having long flowy skirts and rhinestones. Prom dresses, and that is what they displayed in their tall windows that basked the whole room with natural light, or at least as much as possible given the narrow streets outside that didn't allow for much sunlight.

Beyond that the store was dominated by with elegance. The subtle smell of mahogany filled the air, coming off of hand carved wall borders and doors which opened up into the walls to display the clothing on racks. Each dress or tuxedo lined up neatly and professionally to fit as many in as possible without letting them be hidden. At the intervals between these wardrobe-like elements mannequins stood to display what were likely the more popular works.

A long sleeved dress that left the shoulders bare, the sleeves and bodice black and soft while the full skirt was white silk that drifted around the knees, shimmering subtly.

A red dress that stuck close to the mannequin’s body, the skirt falling straight to the floor and pooling there in rich fabric that Jan would love to drown in. With no sleeves and an open back, held up by a piece that went around the neck. A shawl made of a lighter material draped around the mannequin’s shoulders.

A tuxedo that was sewn so skillfully that Jan was almost convinced there were no seams.

Jan was sure that she was childishly in love, looking like a wide eyed innocent in the face of wonder.

Alfred clearing his throat broke her out of her reverie and she turned to look at the aging old man who stood up straight with all the bags in his arms, fitting right in with the atmosphere with all of his old fashioned charm.

“Where’s Damian?” Jan asked immediately after noticing that he was gone, nowhere to be seen.

“Master Damian elected to go home in order to complete his school work for the day, and seeing as this is our last stop, I saw no reason to stop him.”

“Oh.”

“I must also tell you that Master Bruce has postponed his lunch with you. He asks that it be rescheduled for dinner tomorrow. Is that alright with you Miss Jan?”

The small drop in Jan’s chest indicated her disappointment but she didn’t say a word about it, letting it fade as she made her answer. “Sure, that sounds fine. Does that mean I no longer need the fancy luncheon outfit?”

Alfred shook his head. “Given the extra, Miss Jan may I introduce you to Miss Caelin Hurst.”

He held his hand out, motioning to a woman over Jan’s shoulder. Jan turned around and faced a woman shorter than she was with blonde curls tied back into a ponytail and blue framed glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. The way she looked at Jan possessed more authority than she was expecting as the woman, Caelin, looked over Jan with a critical eye.

 

“You have an easy figure.” Caelin said, her voice not unkind, she was at ease in this place, knew exactly how she fit in here and had no problem letting others know that. “Roughly 5’6 with a slender body, not a lot of hip, but the boobs came in nicely. Not done growing just yet I think. I don’t think you eat enough.”

“Miss Jan is just getting used to the idea of eating again.” Alfred interjected.

Caelin’s eyes turned from Alfred back to Jan, wide this time. “Oh! You’re her.”

“Who?” Jan asked, a little confused while also feeling a little self conscious about the body inspection, her arms already trying to hide her chest and catching a glimpse of her hip in the mirror behind Caelin.

“You’re her. Jane, the new Wayne kid. Oh it’s so lucky I was in today. Oh Alfred could you imagine what would have happened if I let Fray dress this girl.”

“It would have been dreadful I’m sure.” Alfred said, his voice dry while Jan looked at him with extreme perplexity which he reassured her with a small shake of his head was unnecessary.

“Well Jan you’re in luck. I’m a seamstress, one of Wayne Enterprises favorites. I’ll be making you all of the best outfits for as long as you’ll have me.”

And without further ado, Caelin brought Jan into the back where she had the young teenager stand on a pedestal in front of several mirrors while she took the girl’s measurements. Alfred waited outside. She did so quickly and disappeared into an archive of swaths and gowns, laying them out on the couch and over the mirrors, leaving Jan to wander a bit around this dressing room.

“So, Jane. Or well, Jan. Alfred did call you Jan right?”

Jan nodded. “Um, yes. It’s Jan.”

“Hah. That’s going to piss off all the major news sources when they find out they’ve been selling a typo.”

Jan shrugged as she wandered to the back where a collection was being made, peaking her interest. “They all can believe whatever they want. My name is mine to bare, not there’s to scrutinize.”

“But don’t you want them to tell the truth? Your real story? At the very least your real name. You should really do an interview, it would be riveting television.”

“What, with masked vigilantes saving the day every other night? I doubt I’d make much story compared to those spectacles.” Jan snorted as her fingers felt over the solid material that hugged one of the mannequins.  

“Hm...you might be right. Okay, you, come back over here I need to experiment.”

Jan got back on the pedestal and stood up as straight as she could only to be reprimanded by Caelin who told her to relax, that way she’d get a better idea of how the outfits would look naturally. She held up dress forJan to change into and checked how the colour worked with her skin, how the shape worked with her body, getting mad at herself when a dress she chose made Jan look like a “stiff board”. Habitually sticking a pin the seams of each dress that disappointed her.

“Um...Caelin, what are those clothes in the back for?” Jan asked when inbetween dresses, curiosity getting to her and letting her start conversation.

Caelin looked to the four mannequins that were dress in mostly incomplete ensembles. A smirk can to her face and she grabbed both of Jan’s hands before she could pull the dress up her torso, letting the garment slip and fall, leaving her in her underwear in front of Caelin.

“Would you like to put one on?” Caelin asked and before Jan could really answer she was pulled over there, Caelin quickly getting to work undressing one of the white bodies. “These are going to be some of my most prized works. I’m going to be showcasing them in a show with some other designers.”

“But Caelin-”

“They’re superhero outfits, I know. No one will wear them for real, but look at them. They are so gorgeous. You’d look absolutely perfect in this one. Honestly I’d ask you to be my model for it in the show, if you’d let me tailor it to you. Would you?”

Jan just smiled and nodded her head. Caelin looked so excited about these gritty or flashy themed outfits that she was working on and Jan couldn’t help but be compelled as one of the ensembles was forced into her hands. Jan let herself be helped into a skin tight pair of leggings and a shirt reminiscent of catsuit or leotard, easy to move in and laced with kevlar as Caelin explained, an example of beauty and protection.

“What is this show for anyway?” Jan asked as she was ushered over to the mirror and Caelin immediately got to work with her needles and pins.

“It’s an homage from us here in the district. You see an attack happened here recently, totally screwed up the shops here and the offices nearby. If not for Batman though it would have been much worse. Plus with funding from Wayne Enterprises, rebuilding was covered and a bunch of us had the extra cash to put this together. And I mean, well, we don’t usually do this sort of thing, but we figured what’s a better excuse to showcase our stuff?”

Jan shrugged and nodded, it was sound enough logic for her. If Jan were being honest with herself, she didn’t understand the Batman phenomenon just yet. The man ran around the most notoriously crime infested city dressed as a bat. Criminals feared him. Civilians had fashion shows in his honour. How does such a thing happen in only a matter of years? Jan had been reading up on him as well, he was a myth up until recently. No one believed he was real, but criminals just showed up around town beaten up and willing to cooperate with police. When he was a myth it didn’t matter but now he was real, he had saved Jan’s life and never personally took credit for it, but the city was in a love-hate relationship about the whole thing. Jan didn’t know what to make of it, was she supposed to be grateful to him or keep her head low? Who was he supposed to be?

“The show is in three months.” Caelin said, breaking Jan out of her random train of thought. “If you show up maybe once every week, Fridays preferably, I can get this one done well in advance. And of course I’ll have a bunch of other things for you so that you don’t stick out in a bad way at all those fancy gala thingamajiggers.”

  
“It’s a plan.” Jan said with a grin.

* * *

From that point on Caelin had dropped all formalities, not that she had many in her repertoire, instantaneously winning Jan over with her easy nature. Jan fell for her like a virgin, as Caelin had put it three hours prior when the mission for clothing ended and Jan was dragged out into the world to commence her education. Lesson 1: Snacks. Lesson 2: Movies. 

The two of them sat on the old hard and lumpy couch, cuddled into each others’ sides. Their legs were curled up together and covered by a thin sheet of a blanket that was likely meant to make thin cotton dress shirts rather than keep them warm. 

Scattered around them were various bags of snacks. Caeli’s hand periodically delved into the bag of popcorn nestled on her knees and then the bag of salt and vinegar chips precariously placed by her head on the back of the couch. 

Jan had been settled with candies of all flavours and kinds, apparently normal things that Jan had no familiarity with. Caelin had bought everything from mochi to Hershey’s milk chocolate. Everything Caelin thought Jan’s tube fed self needed to experience was there. Twizzlers, black licorice, Russell Stover’s assorted chocolates, Pocky, Pringles, Lays, Skittles, M&Ms, marshmallows. All of it occupied some space all around Jan’s body and the floor in front of her. 

Playing on a box of a TV setup was a pixely copy of Moulin Rouge, another aspect of Jan’s education.  


“Now do you get it? That red dress totally makes you look like Satine. It’s hot.”

“You said the same thing about me and the lady from Pretty Woman.” Jan said almost dismissively as she tried to ignore Caelin’s statement.

“Hey. Two different dresses.” Caelin glared, a chip pointed at Jan’s nose.

“That according to you make me look like a prostitute.”

“You look fuckable in a hospital gown too.”

“Cae, I can’t wear a promiscuous red dress like that in front of people.”

“You wore them in front of me.’ Caelin said as she watched the credits roll, catching a glimpse of Jan’s subtly mortified face. “Such a prude.”

“That’s not the point.” Jan mumbled, arms crossed over her chest as she resented the thought that Caelin just couldn’t comprehend the inappropriateness of those dresses anywhere near Wayne Manor. 

“Aha! So you admit you’re a prude.” 

“Not the point! Cae, I need to be presentable. Wayne plays host to influential and important Gothamites, as well as worldly politicians.”

“All of whom will be bringing their slutty dates. Come on Jan, just buy the Satine dress. Please?” She begged, clutching at Jan’s arm. “You never even have to wear it. Just keep it in case a prince comes along.”

“Fairytales don’t happen in real life, Cae.”

“And I’m talking about real life princes Jan. I’m willing to bet Prince Harry has gotten drunk there once before and I’m pretty sure he’s still single, you could totally score. Don’t limit your options.” 

“Who is Prince Harry?” Jan asked and immediately regretted it upon seeing Caelin’s mouth drop open. She sighed in defeat in order to avoid another lengthy lesson on pop culture or whatever other type of culture she was being taught. “Fine. The Satine dress.”

“Yes!” 

Jan smiled at Caelin’s look of triumph. The little blonde’s fist punched into the air with her eyes shut firmly and her teeth clenched around the word “yes”. 

Caelin was a beautiful person. Honest and unabashed, she had the remarkable ability to make people like her. People were attracted to her the moment she spoke, they opened up to her freely and easily, intoxicated by the life of her. She was full of life, full of positive energy and quippy humour. Jan had hardly spent a full day with her and she already knew that this woman was indispensable to her. 

When the film finally returned to the menu, Jan pulled herself away from Caelin with much effort, her body having become so used to the position she was in, cradled in Caelin’s arms. The groan that escaped her was a satisfying release of sound accompanied by the popping of all her joints.

“How can you do that?” Caelin grimaced, her face cringed up and her nose wrinkled.

Jan laughed softly and looked around for her things. “I must leave. It’s getting dark and I don’t want to miss dinner.”

“What? But Alfred hasn’t come back yet from dropping off your bags, and we still haven’t watched the heartthrob I was talking to you about serenade the shrew. This is no joke, you can’t leave.”

“I have to leave. If I stay any longer I’ll never go, and besides, Alfred has already been called away to take care of some mess Wayne has gotten into-”

“Which Wayne?”

“Either one? I have to go eat real food.” Jan argued.

Reluctantly Caelin got up and handed Jan her things.

“Fine, but next time we’re doing a full fitting and I’m getting a cheeseburger.”

“Very well.” Jan said as she carefully took her things and put on her coat.

“I’m gonna introduce you to the realm of sci-fi and fast food. You’re gonna love it. And we are so going to crack that polite little mask you’ve got going on.”

Caelin just couldn’t stop grinning as she thought up more plans and kissed Jan on both cheeks before sending her off. 

Jan left the store feeling like a new person, a living person, a normal person who did normal things with her new friend. She felt good.

The cold air of Gotham city filled her lungs and though the scent of garbage and gasoline was revolting, she couldn’t have breathed better. The walls around her were comfortable, overbearing but not intrusive, and as she looked up at these tall haunted walls she wanted them to be home.

 

Out of sight, sirens whirred and tires screeched as cops went about doing their jobs. Their ceaseless hustle that no one thanks them for anymore while the gangs and politicians get more ruthless, the average person gets more helpless and co-workers make things harder with corruption. Ambulances raced down far off streets, every second they were not at their destination feeling like an eternity before body melting relief. People lining up outside of bars with their friends, laughing and leaning on each other as they waited in the crisp cold air. Individuals shouting from rooftops and fire escapes.    
A pain infected the veins of the city, an infection that begged for attention and received it in the form of shadowing capes. A handful of defenders,  _ vigilantes _ , preserving a semblance of hope. Allowing for those ambulances to get where they needed, for those people to line up in comfort rather than fear like cattle in a slaughterhouse called Gotham. For all their genuine worth though, their work seemed just like an exchange of masters. Trading the gun on the battlefield for the knife in your back. And yes, all her speculation was manifestation of her own fear. 

It came as no coincidence to the emerald eyed “Wayne” that from the moment of her rebirth into this actual reality, Batman has entangled himself into her story. From the minute she woke up when he was standing in the hall, to his pressuring Mr. Bruce Wayne into taking her in as his own until different arrangements could be made, and perhaps it was paranoia but a chill like blackwater coasted down her spine when she decided to leave Caelin’s boutique and she was sure he was watching. 

 

Then she looked up at these walls, and down at these city streets, and around at the enticing lights and neon signs. The infection, her own fear. 

All of that seemed so far away, blissfully far away. She breathed in again. 


End file.
